


Some Ideal To Replace My Life

by lightningwaltz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/pseuds/lightningwaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It feels like the wildest betrayal to feel joy on such a somber journey.</i> Written for the fridged women ficathon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Ideal To Replace My Life

The final time Elia is permitted to leave King's Landing, it is under a veil of grief and suspicion. King Aerys's eyes are hard and cold as he takes leave of her, lending credence to the claim that Varys had to persuade him that she was no threat. That Elia of Dorne is simply a mourning daughter, off to attend her mother's funeral, not a woman capable of toppling a kingdom.

_(No, years later they would make that claim about Lyanna Stark. Elia is merely kind, sweet, gentle. Like a mantra, or a prayer: sweet, kind, gentle. She has never discussed affairs of state with Doran, has never teased her suitors with Oberyn, has never looked into the wolf girl's eyes and thought 'oh dear, this one is desperate to run away as far as she can.' At least, those facets of her life fall by the wayside after her death.)_

She travels further and further south, her heart heavy as a stone between her ribcage. Her mother is dead, her mother is _dead_ , and the sheer impossibility of it threatens to drown her. Her retinue passes through the bountiful lands of the Reach, traverses the craggy Marches, and Elia contemplates never getting to hear her mother's laughter again.

And then she crosses into Dorne.

Her home Kingdom, her life blood. The red sand and merciless heat. But also the oases, the blood oranges, Oberyn's japes, and Doran's placidity. It takes strength of will to make one's home in a land such as this. She briefly raises her veil, to feel the sun's rays on her face.

 _I've come home._

It feels like the wildest betrayal to feel joy on such a somber journey. And yet that's the only word Elia can put on her present situation. Joy and excitement mingle with the sorrowful and bittersweet. And finally, finally, she recalls her mother as a life lived, not just a love mourned.

 _If you ever feel happiness, welcome it without reservation. There's little enough of it to go around._ Her mother had said that once, in a rare moment when she was taking respite from being the Princess of Dorne.

(One day, Oberyn would say something similar to his own daughters, but Elia won't be around to witness it.)

But for now she is _almost_ free, and certainly alive.

Elia urges her horse into a gallop. She has brought gifts from King's Landing for her niece, and she can't wait to see her surprised smile.


End file.
